Time
passes so differently for me now. Years used to pass as minutes, centuries
as days. Now each passing moment seems an eternity. I sleep, more often
than not, dreaming of what once was, wishing, praying for it to return.
All I have are my memories. And memories could never do it justice.

I weep
for what was and no more is,
The old realms, the kingdoms, the kings.
I hunger for these things, but what more is,
I cannot forget these things

I shall
change as the things that I cherish,
Shall fade as they faded before.
As foam upon water shall perish,
As sand washed upon the shore...

I
will make the city live on, even if only as a memory.

"Time passes differently for those who make it
so."

Tolumvire
was fond of that saying, using it to illustrate his vision. "Arendur
can be whatever we want it to be...there is no limit. The only limits
are those we make for ourselves."

By this time Tolumvire had attracted the greatest minds the multiverse
had to offer. It was an exciting time, where nothing, no problem, no issue
was too grand for these great thinkers to solve.

Together
the best of the best were working on a problem of cosmic significance.
Historians, theologians, arcanists and even oracles had all come to the
same frightening realization. Arendur, which was perhaps the pinnacle
of civilization to this point, was destined to be destroyed, like every
city before it.

How could the gods, how could fate, how could time itself be so cruel
as to destroy something so beautiful? To not even give it a fighting chance...?

Tolumvire,
the sage, the warrior-poet, the arch-mage, the inventor, the dreamer,
refused to accept that 'fate' left no other options for him, or for the
city he called home. He created a plan, one that would cheat fate of its
spoils, a plan that would allow Arendur and all its citizens to continue
to prosper.

He planned to break the vicious cycle that called for Arendur's destruction.
A monumental task, no doubt, but one that was not impossible--especially
for a man like Tolumvire.

Cycles
and cycles ago, during the first Great War of the gods, the universe had
been sundered, creating the Outer planes, the Outlands, the Elemental,
the Astral, the Ethereal, and the Prime Material. The only place where
the planes were still united was the very place where they had been sundered
all those ages ago--Raak-po, the first city. What most people fail to
realize is that remnants of even the first city exist today, if you know
where to look.

Arendur,
like Raak-po before it, was based upon the most ancient magicks and technologies
known to mankind. The core of the city predated even the first gods!
He had discovered and learned how to use these ancient secrets; something
no man and maybe no god had ever fully done before. Arendur was the nexus
of the multiverse--with the proper understanding you can do with it what
you please. Tolumvire had that understanding and he planned touse it.

To
break the cycle, Tolumvire believed you must first undo that which had
been done years ago. You must unite the
planes--create a universe from a multiverse.

The most difficult part would be to merge the Infernus (the hells) with
the rest of the multiverse. Eons ago, the gods had created the Infernus
to imprison demons. Tolumvire had already foreseen the necessity of this
task, as unpleasant as it would be. For years already, Tolumvire had been
the Grand Master of a Cabal of Thaumaturgists (wizards that had mastered
the demonic arts) and Slayers (holy warriors whose lives were devoted
to destroying demons).

As
it was became more evident that Arendur's time was coming close to an
end, A ritual was prepared at the Gatehouse. All the greatest Thaumaturgists
in the realms were present. Slayers were on hand to witness (and to handle
any unexpected events). The key elements had been assembled. The Gates
to the Infernus, for better or for worse, would swing wide.

The
rest of Arendur stood by, expectant, awaiting the dawning of a new age.
Fathers stood proud, only seeming relaxed and strong for their families.
Mothers watched, anxious, praying that their children would live to have
families of their own. Hopeful children lined the rooftops, curious
but confident that Tolumvire would set things right.

Tolumvire finished the ritual, placing his essence, his very soul, into
the incantation.

None of them could possibly plan for what happened next.

The Gatehouse shuddered, the streets quaked, the
air was electric and dreadfully silent. A cold fog roiled through
the gates and spread throughout the city. Onlookers began to scream.
Reality folded, and unspeakable horrors poured into the city.

Whether the ritual was somehow disturbed, flawed, or just impossible,
is still a matter of controversy. Seeking only to prevent Arendur's
destruction, Tolumvire had unwillingly sped the process.

The
Cabal immediately fell upon the creatures at the gates, battling
their way towards a stunned and seemingly defenseless Tolumvire.
Their sudden heedless charge forced the demon horde back and saved
Tolumvire from a senseless slaughter. But as they tried to retreat
to safety, Tolumvire refused to go. Instead, he solemnly grabbed
Sorrow, one of the famed three swords, and he plunged headlong through
the gate.

Tolumvire
fought his way through the the demon masses into the Gatehouse. A handful
of Slayers followed, willing to sacrifice themselves for their people
and their leader. They realized the gates had to be shut quickly to end
the destruction. Unfortunately, the only way to do this was shutting them
from the inside. When the time came, Tolumvire sacrificed himself to close
the Gates.

Though
Tolumvire's selfless sacrifice forever closed the Infernus, the damage
had already been done. Arendur lay in ruins. The prophecies had
been fulfilled, the cataclysm had occurred, and another age, the Age of
Legends, had come to a violent end.

Tolumvire
died so that others may live. In his mind, his sacrifice was penance--the
least he could do for his failure. There is one consolation to this sad
tale. Though the demons of the Infernus may have ravaged his physical
form, they did not claim his soul. His essence was consumed by the ritual.
His soul will remain part of the city, part of Arendur, and now part of
Sigil, until it can merge with the incarnation of Tolumvire in the next
cycle.